Today’s interview was at the headquarters of Time Magazine, a towering building right in the heart of the city center.
As they approached downtown, traffic ground to a halt. Lu Zhixia leaned back in the rear seat, dozing off, while Shen Wanqing sat beside her, flipping through financial reports.
Haijing Senhua had been rife with internal power struggles for years. After Shen Wanqing took over and applied pressure, many outwardly complied, but everyone had their own little schemes brewing beneath the surface.
Take Sales Director Yang Ge, for example—a company veteran whose performance had always topped the Asia-Pacific region. That was the root of his arrogance.
The people under him fawned endlessly, calling him “Boss” this and “President Yang” that, elevating him to the skies. Everyone in the company treated him with deference.
There were even rumors that Yang Ge had boasted to outsiders: Haijing Senhua owed its success to him, and the whole company depended on him for survival.
Shen Wanqing had confirmed it through recordings—the former president had always been polite to him, which only fueled his growing insolence.
So even though she knew he’d signed a fake contract, Yang Ge merely faced superficial repercussions.
Someone had snapped photos and sent them to her: Yang Ge taking clients out for drinks and entertainment under the guise of business schmoozing, billing it all as hospitality expenses for company reimbursement.
He delivered results, sure, but not enough to justify his lavish spending. He’d built a solid network of connections, though—the classic case of abusing public funds for personal gain.
As the new boss, Shen Wanqing knew her first move had to count. Yang Ge, with all his issues, was the obvious target. But she was still mulling over the best way to strike, one that would serve as a warning to the rest.
The company watched closely. Someone quietly reported to Yang Ge: “Boss, the vase didn’t show up again.”
Yang Ge stood by the window, grinning smugly. “They say she’s a real tough cookie, but I don’t see it. No moves so far—calling her a vase is spot on.”
He had a clear picture of Shen Wanqing’s frequent absences.
“What about tonight’s dinner with the provincial department, Boss?”
“Same as always.”
“The budget’s already blown out this month. You sure that’s okay?”
“What’s there to worry about?” With Yang Ge backing them, his subordinates grew bolder and headed off to make preparations.
As September neared, Haijing City occasionally enjoyed crisp autumn days—bright sunshine, cool and refreshing.
Shen Wanqing gently woke Lu Zhixia. “We’re almost there.”
Lu Zhixia yawned, rubbing her eyes. “President Shen, aren’t you tired at all?”
Before Shen Wanqing could respond, she added, “Do you not get much sleep?”
Shen Wanqing turned silently to gaze out the window. A few seconds later, she replied, “Old people don’t need much sleep. It’s normal.”
Realizing how that sounded, she quickly added, “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just worried you’re overworking yourself.” Her words were always so sincere, delivered with that earnest, pleading look, as if doubting her would be a betrayal.
It reminded Shen Wanqing of earlier that day, before they left. Lu Zhixia had declared her pursuit, and when Shen Wanqing didn’t respond, she’d circled around, leaned in close, locked eyes, and repeated it with utter seriousness.
In the end, Shen Wanqing hadn’t replied—or rejected her. Unexpectedly, that had thrilled Lu Zhixia, who declared that no rejection meant a chance. Her optimism was truly innate.
Lost in these thoughts, Shen Wanqing noticed the car pulling to a stop.
A dedicated staffer was already waiting downstairs to escort them up. After brief pleasantries, they headed to the studio.
Spotlights blazed onstage. Lu Zhixia sat with the interviewer on pre-arranged armchairs, the set designed like a cozy home to put everyone at ease.
Shen Wanqing stood in the farthest corner; Lu Zhixia had to strain to barely make out her silhouette.
The early part of the interview went smoothly, their responses to questions about the family marriage aligned perfectly.
During the break, Lu Zhixia pointed at the camera. “Isn’t this for a magazine? Why the filming?”
“Oh, that’s just for internal records. Don’t worry—it won’t air,” the host assured her with a smile. Lu Zhixia nodded, stood, and glanced around. “I’ll check on President Shen. Be right back.”
She hurried backstage.
Shen Wanqing sat in the back row’s dimmest corner, her face pale. Lu Zhixia crouched down softly. “Feeling unwell?”
“It’s nothing.” Shen Wanqing kept her eyes down.
Lu Zhixia wore only light makeup, her features exquisite and refreshingly clean.
“Half an hour left—it’s almost over.” Lu Zhixia rose, resting her hands on the armrests and peering down at her. “If you’re not feeling well, head to the car. Or come up front; it’s too dark and gloomy back here.”
Shen Wanqing didn’t budge, so Lu Zhixia pressed on: “We’ve covered most of the scripted questions. I figure the rest will be new ones—I might not nail them. Why don’t you sit up front and keep an eye on things for me? I’ll watch your cues.”
Shen Wanqing wanted to reassure her that Time Magazine wouldn’t make things difficult.
Instead, she couldn’t help but pout playfully. “But I want to see you.”
Helpless, Shen Wanqing kept a straight face. “Talk properly.”
“Come on, come on, I just want to see Big Sister.” Lu Zhixia laid it on so thick that she ended up grossing herself out.
President Shen chided her for being so sappy on her lips, but she still rose to her feet and walked forward alongside her.
The staff hurriedly arranged a seat for President Shen. Just as Lu Zhixia was about to take the stage, President Shen suddenly gripped her hand tightly.
Lu Zhixia looked at her with concern, and President Shen immediately let go, exhaling softly. “I’m fine.”
The interview continued, and sure enough, the questions that followed were all new ones.
The early ones weren’t so bad, mostly asking how Lu Zhixia personally viewed the marriage alliance.
“It’s all consensual between both parties—what others think isn’t the most important thing.” The host clearly wasn’t satisfied with Lu Zhixia’s answer and pressed on. “But the alliance will affect you and President Shen, right? How do you plan to handle that kind of change?”
Lu Zhixia glanced at President Shen in the audience. Her expression was grave, and she seemed a bit tense.
Assuming President Shen was worried she’d say something reckless, Lu Zhixia reined in her flamboyant personality and gave a standard response. “There will definitely be changes, but I believe President Shen and I will be just fi—”
“Does President Shen feel the same way?”
“Getting along amicably with others is—”
“What I’m asking is President Shen’s opinion. Have you ever asked her? Does she support her father’s marriage alliance?”
This host kept interrupting—what was her deal? Irritation flared in Lu Zhixia, but she kept her patience. “We’ve talked about it some… um…”
“So, why don’t you ask President Shen down there?” The host was eager to push it, and suddenly the camera zoomed in.
President Shen shot to her feet at once, her voice stern and sharp. “Cut it!”
The cameraman jumped, glancing back at the host. She hurried offstage, trying to lighten the mood. “President Shen, it’s just a little question.”
“I said cut—”
“President Shen, please don’t get worked up.”
“This isn’t me getting worked up, it’s—”
“President Shen…” The host’s microphone was suddenly blocked by Lu Zhixia, who stared her down coldly and said in a low voice, “First, stop interrupting her. Second, get that camera off her right now and delete every frame with President Shen in it. Third, you owe her an apology.”
The atmosphere grew taut as a drawn bowstring. The host flinched under Lu Zhixia’s icy glare, then recovered and said, “Okay, okay, let’s all calm down and talk this through.”
President Shen still looked furious and turned to leave.
Lu Zhixia grabbed her hand, only then noticing how icy cold it was—and trembling slightly.
“President Shen, let me get you to the car first. I’ll handle the rest.” Lu Zhixia turned back to the cameraman, her gaze sharp as a blade. “Delete it. Do it now.”
The cameraman looked to the host, who shrank back from Lu Zhixia’s frosty stare. Unwilling as she was, she waved a hand—fine, delete it.
President Shen’s first public appearance—how many people had been waiting for it? They’d hoped to seize the moment, see if they could make something of it. They never expected her reaction to be this intense.
In the car, Lu Zhixia felt the cold sweat in President Shen’s palm. She whispered, “You okay?”
President Shen’s face was ashen, like she’d been pulled from a cold bath. She leaned against the seatback and murmured after a moment, “Hurry back.”
“I don’t want to do the interview anymore.” Lu Zhixia clung to her hand. “I’ve answered everything they needed to ask. The new stuff they tacked on is just extra anyway.”
“Go on.” President Shen exhaled gently, though her brows remained furrowed. “Finish recording properly.”
With no other choice, Lu Zhixia got into the car first and went back to wrap up the rest.
The host apologized profusely, admitting fault, but Lu Zhixia insisted on checking the footage herself.
The cameraman played the ending segment for her—it had indeed been deleted. Lu Zhixia pointed at the trash button. “No backups in here, right?”
He clicked into it, and Lu Zhixia’s expression darkened. She raised her voice. “Everyone here today—you’re all prominent figures at Time Magazine. Breaking agreements and filming someone without consent is illegal. If anyone shot President Shen or anything off-topic from the interview, delete it now. If it leaks online later, I’ll remember every one of you. I won’t hesitate to take this to court.”
Some of the staff below fiddled with their phones, heads down. Others turned away from her stern gaze.
Lu Zhixia’s remaining answers were curt, stripped of their earlier warmth.
When the host brought up her injury, Lu Zhixia shot back without hesitation. “Today’s topic is the marriage alliance. What does that have to do with it?”
“Ah, no direct connection, I suppose.” The host gave an awkward smile. “We understand you used to work at the Translation Bureau. Why did you leave?”
“Same answer as before—none of your—”
“It’s not about relevance; it’s just a backup question for discussion, not guaranteed to make the final cut.”
“This host,” Lu Zhixia said, her eyes sharpening as she fixed her gaze on the woman. “Why do you keep interrupting people? It’s incredibly rude.”
The host grew even more flustered. Lu Zhixia pressed on. “Interrupting me over and over is bad enough, and I can let that slide. But filming Shen Wanqing out of nowhere? That was completely out of line. You have her WeChat—please give her a proper apology.”
With that, Lu Zhixia rose and walked out.
The moment the door clicked shut behind her, murmurs of complaint filled the room.
Someone muttered that she was just putting on airs, acting like she was all that.
Others grumbled that she was blowing everything out of proportion—was a simple apology really necessary?
Then came whispers about Shen Wanqing dodging interviews. Maybe there was some shady secret behind it.
A bespectacled man chimed in with a nasty joke. “What if she’s some fugitive with a nationwide warrant out for her?”
Laughter rippled through the group—until the half-open door creaked wider. The room, simmering like a pot on the boil, froze solid.
Lu Zhixia stood in the doorway, her deathly stare pinning everyone in place. No one dared make a sound.
She said nothing, just glared at them with cold, ruthless intensity—a silent battle of wills.
“Sorry…” The first apology broke the silence, mumbled by one of the jokers. The others followed suit, one after another.
Lu Zhixia didn’t acknowledge them. Her face remained a mask of stone-cold fury. “I want every single one of you to go apologize to Shen Wanqing at her car. Right now. Or I’ll make you regret it—in my own way.”
Her voice was ice and venom. They exchanged uneasy glances, and the bespectacled man—the worst offender—bolted first.
The car window was rolled down. Shen Wanqing reclined against the seat, watching them with cool detachment.
The bespectacled man went first, mumbling his apology. One by one, they shuffled up to the window, heads bowed, choking out sorries.
Shen Wanqing offered no reply. Lu Zhixia stepped up to the bespectacled man. The raw menace in her eyes made him stumble back a step.
“Watch your mouth.” She pressed her clenched fist to his chest and gave a light tap. “Be careful.” On that final warning, her knuckles shoved him away with deliberate force. She climbed into the car, and they sped off around the corner.
The group stared at one another, exhaling in quiet relief.
A few still seethed with resentment, but Lu Zhixia’s savage glare had spooked them. For now, their gripes stayed locked in their heads.
The drive passed in silence. Shen Wanqing leaned back, her head tilted toward the window—whether lost in thought or simply gazing out, it was hard to tell.
Sunlight kissed her profile, bathing it in a soft glow that made her seem luminous.
Her palm lay open on the seat between them. As the car rounded a bend, Lu Zhixia’s fingertip brushed against her cool skin.
Her heart lurched. Lu Zhixia jerked her gaze to the window, her finger idly scratching at the upholstery like a timid snail testing the air. At last, it inched forward with newfound courage.
She clasped Shen Wanqing’s hand, their fingers intertwining.
Shen Wanqing turned her head. She caught sight of those flushed ears, the lashes quivering in pretended sleep.
She shifted to her other hand, claiming the warm palm and tugging its owner closer. Shen Wanqing leaned in as well.
Lu Zhixia wrapped her arms around her. Her heart thundered; a delicious shiver ran through her limbs. The words tumbled out before she could stop them. “I like you.”
So soft, like a whisper lost in the hush of night.
Yet it struck someone’s heart with crushing weight.
Thump—
Thump—
Those powerful beats roared like thunder, shaking the heavens.
